


Expectations, Due to Change

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Ace!Shane, Asexual Character, Asexual Shane, Asexuality, Awkward Boners™, Discussions of Asexuality, M/M, Some Fluff, asexual!Shane, it all works out ok I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Their first time together does not at all go how Ryan thought it would.





	Expectations, Due to Change

Their first time together does not at all go how Ryan thought it would.

They’ve been making out on the couch in Shane’s apartment for what feels like  _hours_ now, Ryan sprawled over Shane’s body with his jacket discarded on the ground somewhere beside them. He’s got one hand propping him up and one hand curled through Shane’s hair, alternating between tugging lightly and running through it in slow strokes, and their chests are brushing with every other breath and everything feels fucking  _amazing_.

Ryan’s not even entirely sure who startedthis – he remembers arriving at Shane’s apartment and being greeted with a kiss at the door, and he remembers kicking his shoes off and flopping down on the couch and picking a movie and curling into Shane’s side when Shane rested an arm around his shoulders using a deliberately  _awful_ stretch-and-yawn move, and he remembers that at some point one of them had moved the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table, but he really has no idea who started the making out, or  _when_.

It’s not like he’s complaining, though.

Far from it, in fact. He feels  _fantastic_ , like he’s floating, like all the high school movie kiss clichés are true, and he doesn’t  _care_ that he just thought that. What’s wrong with clichés, after all? He’s sure they exist for a  _reason_ , and if that reason is to give him some guideline to explain how making out with Shane Madej is making him feel, then so be it. Clichés  _rock_. Clichés are  _great_. Clichés are leaving his mind very rapidly because Shane is doing something  _ungodly_ with his tongue, and Ryan thinks his brain might be melting out through his ears a little bit.

He doesn’t even notice when, across the table from them, the movie quietly finishes running the credits and returns to the menu screen.

Everything that’s in his head now is  _Shane:_ Shane’s legs, bracketing him on either side and bent at the knee, because it turns out that Shane’s too tall to lie down on a normal human-sized couch without his feet or head hanging off the end; Shane’s hands, skating random patterns along his sides and across his back and occasionally slipping underneath his shirt, beautiful long fingers tracing the shape of Ryan’s vertebrae; Shane’s  _mouth_ , most of all. Shane’s mouth on his own, slow and slick and  _perfect_ , every curl of his tongue adding to the slowly-growing heat that’s been pooling in Ryan’s gut for the last… hour? Half an hour? For the last  _while_. It’s all simultaneously too much and not nearly enough, and Ryan has no idea how many soft whimpers and whines he’s made into Shane’s mouth, but he really doesn’t care, because Shane has made at least a few sounds into his own.

It’s all so  _good_ , and so  _hot_ and so  _perfect_  that Ryan’s really beginning to think that he wouldn’t mind dying here, but it’s a thought that he only entertains for a second because, thinking logically, if he were to die then Shane wouldn’t be able to kiss him anymore, and that would truly be the greatest trajedy known to man.

Ryan sighs against Shane’s mouth, tilts his head, and somehow the kisses become even  _better_.

He has no idea what he just did, but he needs to remember it. He thinks it might be seared onto his brain already, which is honestly both a blessing and a curse, because on the one hand it means he knows what to do to turn Shane into a pliant, kiss-drunk lug who can’t seem to get enough of touching Ryan’s sides and stomach and back, but on the other hand he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to  _stop_  thinking about it, which definitely will  _not_ be conductive to efficient working in the future.

So he just doesn’tthink about it at all, and instead kisses Shane like his life depends on it. And it very well might, because Shane keeps making all these tiny little sounds against him, and Ryan thinks he might just up and fucking  _die_.

“Mm,  _Ryan_.” It’s just a murmur, barely audible and muffled against Ryan’s lips, but it’s enough to make Ryan groan because  _God_. Shane should not be allowed to say that, not like that, not like Ryan is the best thing that ever happened to him and he might  _die_ if he stops kissing him. Which, admittedly, is a sentiment that Ryan very much understands right now, but  _still_. If Shane says his name much more then Ryan’s going to have a  _problem_ , because he had  _plans_ for tonight, and he intended to see them all the way through and Shane is seriously making him run the risk of ruining them far too early.

But it seems that Shane didn’t get that memo, because not even a handful of seconds pass before he makes another little sound against Ryan’s lips, and breathes out a soft “ _Ry, baby_ ,” and  _fuck it_ , but plans be damned.

Ryan curls his fingers through Shane’s hair, kisses him back some more, kisses him  _harder_ , and cants his hips forwards to meet-

Nothing.

There’s-

He-

_What?_

It’s enough of a shock that Ryan somehow manages to separate his lips from Shane’s, lean back slightly, and look down between them to see- to see exactly what he thought he would.

Shane’s not hard. Not even  _slightly_. There’s no bulge in his jeans to match the one in Ryan’s, no sign of- of  _delayed arousal_ or anything similar, and honestly, Ryan’s just  _baffled_. He’s been half-hard since Shane started making those noises, or since earlier, very possibly, but somehow Shane seems completely unaffected, looking barely ruffled apart from the mussed hair that Ryan’s roaming fingers have given him, and Ryan’s- Ryan’s so  _confused_.

Confused, and somewhat put out.

Because… he thought this was good. He thought this was  _really_ good. He’d been deliberately holding himself away slightly, not wanting to make things weird or awkward because they’d never  _done_ this before, but then he’d figured that Shane was going to know eventually so he might as well know now, and Ryan had been completely, 100% ready for them to rub off against each other like a couple of messy teenagers, and instead he’d found-

This.

Shane’s not even half-hard. He’s not even  _anything_. He’s just lying there, watching the myriad of expressions that Ryan’s sure are flickering across his face, looking more awkward and uncertain by the second.

It’s- honestly, it’s really  _not_ what Ryan had hoped for.

And it’s like Shane can feel the disappointment leaking out of Ryan, because he doesn’t stay silent much longer.

“So…” he says, and Ryan abruptly realises that his half-formed boner is still pressed against Shane’s decidedly not-hard dick, and he almost falls off the couch in his attempt to scramble away.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling his hands away from Shane’s hair and instead placing them somewhere,  _anywhere_  safer, eventually settling on his shoulders. He can feel the warmth of Shane’s skin even through the fabric of his shirt, and he really,  _really_ shouldn’t be thinking about that right now because it is  _not_  going to help, but he can’t help it. “I- fuck, dude, I’m-“

“Ryan,” Shane says, cutting him off, and Ryan suddenly remembers that Shane’s hands are still on his waist because his boyfriend is  _not_  letting him do what he wants to do, which is to shuffle all the way back to the other end of the couch and bury his boner under a cushion and silently wait for death. “ _Ry,_ ” Shane says, and waits a few more moments for Ryan to calm slightly. “Hey. It’s alright, baby.”

“It’s not,” Ryan retorts instantly, “I- I didn’t mean to make this awkward but now I  _have_  and, God, I’m so sorry, we can- I’ll just- I’ll hide this or- I can go, if you want, that’s fine, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to force you into anything you’re not into, you know-“

“ _Ryan_ ,” Shane says again, and his fingers tighten slightly on Ryan’s waist. It’s enough to startle him out of his panicked babbling, and he looks back at Shane to see an expression that he can’t quite decipher settle across his face. “It’s chill, dude, really. I’m asexual, that’s all. My dick doesn’t- it’s not so keen on stuff like this. Don’t worry about it.”

Ryan’s worrying about it. He is  _definitely_ worrying about it. Because he knows what asexuality is – how can he not, working at Buzzfeed – but most of what he’s heard about it implied that asexual people are often made uncomfortable by sex, or don’t want to have it at all, and Ryan just up and shoved his boner right up against his boyfriend with no warning and no asking for- for consent or  _anything_  and  _please Satan, I never pray to you, but please open up a hole in the ground and take me to hell right now. Amen_.

It takes Ryan a few moments to notice that Shane is talking again.

“Ryan?” Shane asks, and his voice sounds… off. Ryan doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t know what to  _say_ , so he just stays silent and lets Shane talk. “Is this- I mean I was going to tell you, I promise, it just- I never found a good time for it.”

Ryan gets that, he thinks. It’s not something he’s ever had to deal with himself, of course, but he can- he  _thinks_ he can imagine the difficultly in finding a nice way to slip something like this into a conversation, and  _especially_ a conversation with a partner. Because Ryan is sure he knows, or at least once  _knew_ , a few people who  _would_ want to end a relationship if they found out that their partner was asexual, and he can’t imagine how goddamn  _terrifying_ it must be to have this thing, this  _secret_  that shouldn’t have to be a secret at all, and want to tell your partner before something happens and it gets out on its own but not knowing the whole time if it would be a deal-breaker or not.

_And_ , he thinks to himself,  _Now you’re being that ass who’s just **not saying anything at all**_. Which, he feels, is arguably  _worse_.

So he takes a breath, gives himself a mental shake, and speaks.

“You’re asexual?” he says eventually. It feels simultaneously like it is and isn’t a surprise, and Ryan’s not sure how to feel. He’s not sure what this  _means_ , because every impression he’d got from Shane so far had really implied that he was very much like Ryan, and this last hour or so of making out had only cemented that idea further. Had he been wrong? Had he been misreading the situation entirely? But he can’t have, because Shane was  _definitely_ kissing him back, but what if Shane was only doing it because he felt like he should, what if Shane hadn’t been into it at all, what if-

And then Shane speaks, and Ryan’s quickly deteriorating train of thought slams to a halt.

“Yeah,” Shane says, and then continues when Ryan says nothing for another long while. Ryan wants to say something, he really does, but he has no idea what the right thing to say in this circumstance is and he’s  _terrified_ , because what if he messes it up? What if he says the wrong thing, and Shane hates him, or what if it turns out that he’d been  _right_ and Shane hadn’t wanted to do  _any_ of this and then Shane hates him, or what if Shane thinks they should break up now because Shane hates him, or what if-

What if Ryan gives himself a mental slap to  _stop thinking about that_ , because Shane is talking, and Ryan is- he’s- he just really hopes that Shane is better at words than he is, and says something that actually makes sense. “It’s alright,” Shane continues, “It’s okay, if you-“ He breaks off, pulling his gaze away from Ryan’s, and flops his head back until it’s resting against the armrest of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He sighs, just once, and then continues. “If you decide this is- I don’t know, too much, and you, y’know, maybe don’t want to continue this, I- well, I get it. Don’t worry about it, it’s- it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

That-

That was  _not_ what Ryan was expecting to hear. Not at all. He wasn’t sure  _what_ he was expecting to hear, but he knows it isn’t that.

And then he realises exactly what Shane had said, and  _how_ he’d said it, and every concern he’d had about himself immediately leaves his mind.

Shane had just said ‘I’ll be fine,’ and Ryan has heard a fair few lies from his boyfriend before, but none so big as that one. Shane sounds far from fine – he sounds more like he’s already imagined and  _accepted_ the worst outcome, like he’s already thought of Ryan’s response and it’s the exact opposite of what he wants to hear, and it’s… it’s fucking  _awful_. Worse than that; from the way Shane’s speaking, from the tone of his voice and what he’s saying and the way he’s trying to hold himself together, it almost…

Well, it almost seems like he may have said all this before.

And Shane is  _still talking_. His voice is softer now, and noticeably more uncertain, and when Ryan manages to pull himself outside his own head again he hears Shane continuing to explain how it’s okay, he’ll understand if Ryan doesn’t want to continue things, really, it’s no problem, he  _gets_ it, he  _does_ -

And Ryan can’t fucking stand it.

“Hey,” he says, cutting Shane off mid-ramble, and he  _means_ to say something about how it’s ok, he doesn’t care that Shane is asexual, Shane has nothing to worry about, but what comes out instead is, “…Have people actually broken up with you about this before?”

_What the fuck, Bergara._

Where did that come from?  _Why_ did he ask that? Ryan opens his mouth to speak, to prepare to take it all back and just say what he  _meant_ to say and  _move on_ , but Shane’s already speaking, already answering Ryan’s goddamn fucking  _stupid_  question even though he really,  _really_  doesn’t have to.  _If I’ve fucked this up,_ Ryan thinks, _I’ll never fucking forgive myself._

Shane gives a slight shrug and looks away. He looks… well, somehow he looks almost  _guilty_. Like whatever happened before, whatever he’s about to talk about, was somehow  _his fault_. “Well,” he says, and Ryan  _knows_ that tone, he fucking recognises it, he knows exactly what Shane is about to say and he can feel his blood starting to boil up into a rage beneath his skin because this is Shane’s ‘it’s alright even though it really isn’t’ tone. “I mean, yeah…”

Ryan can barely bring himself to speak. He’s just- he’s so fucking  _mad_  from those three words alone. He doesn’t even know  _why_ he’s so furious so quickly – he was  _fine_ three seconds ago, was completely ready to be calm and sensible and  _rational_ and explain to Shane how he really didn’t mind, he loves Shane no matter what, but instead he’s just- he’s just  _angry_. And it’s  _ridiculous_  - he doesn’t know these people, and probably never will, and they’re not dating Shane now so it shouldn’t fucking  _matter_ what happened once upon a time with them, but the implication that people have broken up with Shane because of something he can’t control and that doesn’t actually matter  _at all_ is somehow enough to pull Ryan’s mood away from ‘confused but understanding contemplation’ and instead settle it slap-bang in the middle of what he would like to think of as ‘righteous fury.’

He wonders if this is what people mean when they say ‘seeing red’.

“… How many people?” he says eventually, and immediately curses himself for it. Shit, that’s probably way to personal a question. He fucked up earlier and now he’s just making it  _worse_ , because apparently he can’t control what comes out of his own goddamn mouth. Shane is clearly uncomfortable as it is, and Ryan  _knows_ that he has no right to ask that, that it shouldn’t  _matter_ , but it  _does_ matter because this is clearly making Shane upset but it shouldn’t matter at all to  _anyone_  that Shane is asexual, but clearly it  _does_ and Ryan  _hates it_.

He barely hears Shane’s reply over the roaring in his ears, but he hears well enough to pick up “Y’know, a handful.”

Ryan knows Shane. Ryan knows Shane has not had very many past relationships.

It doesn’t take any amount of advanced math to figure out that there’s a very solid chance that almost half of Shane’s previous relationships have ended just because his partner didn’t like that he was asexual.

It’s fucking ridiculous.

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Ryan says.

“It’s not!” Shane replies immediately, and even though he’s fidgeting and seems awkward and uncertain his voice is weirdly defensive. “It’s-  _I get it_ , okay? Sex is important for a lot of people, and if I can’t provide that for them then it only makes sense that they- that they look somewhere else, alright?” He pauses, gives a sigh, and Ryan can tell that he’s about to launch into some ridiculous simile. “It’s like… say you go to Chipotle, and they don’t have what you want. If you want that thing again you just go somewhere else. There’s no point in continuing to go to Chipotle and then complaining that they don’t have the thing you want when there’s somewhere else  _you can get the thing_.” He shrugs again and shifts his arms akimbo, gesturing to himself loosely. “I don’t have the thing, Ryan. So there’s no point in people who want the thing sticking with me. It makes sense. It’s alright.”

It  _does_  make sense, in an awful way, and Ryan hates it. He hates that he understands what Shane’s saying, that he gets his point so quickly and so easily, that he even  _agrees_ with it to a certain extent at the very same time that he hates it with his whole entire being. Not to mention that it is so blatantly, horrifically clear that even  _Shane_ , who seems to be saying ‘it’s alright’ on every other breath, is about the furthest from alright that Ryan has ever seen him, and Ryan thinks he hates that the most.

_Nothing_  seems to faze Shane, more or less. He doesn’t believe in ghosts or demons and so it shouldn’t be surprising that supposedly haunted locations don’t bother him in the slightest, and he almost always manages to find a way to turn even the grisliest of events into something with a joke to it, some point of humour, and even after the worst days, even when something truly, genuinely horrific has happened, there’s still a sense of upbeat cheerfulness to him, like he’ll be ready to take on the world again after ten minutes breather and a cup of coffee.

Shane looks distinctly not alright now.

He looks fucking  _awful_ , Ryan thinks. To most people Shane would look like he does on most days, if a bit more delicate, almost as if he were hungover, but Ryan  _knows_ Shane, knows him so well it’s actually absurd, and he can see the cracks creeping in along the edges. He can see the slight nervous flicker to his eyes, recognises the way he was picking at the cuticles of his nails before as if every answer he sought could be discovered just below his own skin, and he knows them as Shane’s nervous tics. He saw them before Shane asked him on a date for the first time, saw them when Shane had asked if they were boyfriends. Ryan sees them, hears the faintest tremor in Shane’s voice, hears the forced cheerfulness and humour, and he hates it with every cell in his body.

(He sort of wishes he had a time machine, just so that he could go back and punch everyone who ever thought it was okay to tell Shane that not caring about sex made him  _wrong_ in some way. That it was okay to be cast aside just because of one tiny thing.)

He doesn’t realise he’s clenching his fists until he feels a light touch to one of them, and he looks down to see Shane’s long fingers curl loosely around his own.

“It’s alright,” Shane says again, and where before he had sounded nervous and uncertain, now he just sounds  _defeated_.

It makes Ryan want to  _cry_.

It makes him want to punch people. But he can’t do that, because there’s no one else around to punch, so he forces himself to settle for words instead.

“It is  _not alright_ ,” he says, and surprises himself with the force of the subdued anger in his voice.  _Good. I **am** angry. _“It’s not- you’ve got to realise how ridiculous this is, right?”

Shane just looks down and shrugs. His fingers flex slightly around Ryan’s, but they don’t move away. “Not really, honestly. Like I said, it makes sense. I’m Chiptole, sex is the thing, and I don’t sell it. It’s pretty straightforward.”

“It is,” Ryan agrees, “But that doesn’t mean it’s not also ridiculous. Like, people should be in relationships because  _they like the other person_ , you know? Not because they eventually want to get sex out of them. That just- it’s kind of fucked up.” He pauses. “Though, I guess kudos to people who are honest about what they want? That’s- it’s  _something_.” It’s not a something he’s very happy with, but it’s a something all the same.

Across from him, Shane cracks a tiny smile.

“So,” he says, so soft and so quiet he’s almost inaudible, “What do  _you_ want?”

His hand is still on Ryan’s, and Ryan can barely bring himself to part with it, but he does, because what he plans on doing next needs two hands. He watches as Shane’s gaze darts down to their separating hands, and feels his heart fucking  _shatter_ when Shane’s face falls, just a little bit.

_It’s okay_ , he thinks.  _I’m going to make this okay_.

“Shane,” he says, and then reaches out to take Shane’s face in his hands when Shane doesn’t look back up at him, angling his head until eye contact is made, “Baby. You don’t- I’m not gonna break up with you just because of this, alright? I’m not- I’m  _not_. I don’t care that you’re asexual. We can do whatever you’re comfortable with, whatever that is.”

Shane glances back down, the faintest hint of a hopeful smile curling his lips, and says, in the smallest voice Ryan has ever heard in his life, “Really?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know if there  _is_ anything else to say.

But thankfully, through some miracle of God, it seems Shane might not actually need any more than that, because Ryan can already see his shoulders starting to lose the tension they’ve been holding for this entire conversation. Ryan watches as Shane’s tiny smile grows into something slightly more visible, and can’t help his own small smile when Shane looks back up at him. “… Thank you.”

That’s… well, they can talk about how there was nothing Shane had to thank Ryan for later. For now, Ryan wants to do anything he can to remove any trace of guilt or worry or any other negative feeling from Shane’s face and voice and posture and- and  _everything_.

And he doesn’t want to accept Shane’s thanks, because it was never needed in the first place, so instead he just leans forwards and presses a kiss to Shane’s lips.

And Shane fucking  _melts_.

It’s ridiculous, Ryan thinks, how quickly Shane turns to putty at his touch, but he thinks he gets it, at least this time. It had been so goddamn  _obvious_ that Shane was stressed and concerned and  _worried_ about this, more than anything Ryan has ever seen him worry about, and Ryan can only imagine the relief he’s feeling, even if it’s completely unfounded because  _what the fuck, who would break up with someone just because they’re asexual?_

He doesn’t dwell on that thought for too long though, because he knows that if he does all his anger will come surging back, and there’s no place for anger here. Not anymore.

So instead he tilts his head, deepens the kiss a little, and gently rests the fingertips of one hand on Shane’s waist.

He feels more than he hears Shane keen a little against his lips, and it’s no surprise at all when Shane’s hands returned to where they were what feels now like  _hours_ ago, settling in warm and gentle around Ryan’s waist. He can feel their warmth through his shirt and is almost surprised at how much he missed it; it just feels  _right_ , the same way it feels right when Shane uses that newly created contact to pull Ryan in closer, his every action light and cautious as if he’s still worried that Ryan might reject him, and Ryan has to briefly force himself to stay calm because he can find and fight all of Shane’s bullshit shitty exes  _later_. He pushes them from his mind, and turns all of his attention towards Shane instead.

And then everything is easy again.

It’s easy for Ryan to slip one hand back into Shane’s hair, is easy for him to move forwards until their chests are touching again, is easy for his hand to curl gently in the fabric of Shane’s flannel and stay there, securing him in place as if Shane’s hands, solid and certain on his sides, hadn’t already done that for him.

Moments pass.

Ryan feels Shane growing pliant beneath him. It’s… honestly, it’s sort of humbling. Shane is just so- he’s so- he’s so  _Shane_ , so tall and lanky and  _certain_ in his actions, so definite and confident that it’s almost impossible, even now, to picture him being so unthinkingly gentle and trusting. He doesn’t hesitate to move when Ryan shifts closer in, adjusting his legs to make Ryan as comfortable as possible, and even though he was very possibly the one who initiated this making-out session when it first began, before the reveal and the questions and the- the  _everything_ , his kisses are still so unbearably sweet and gentle and  _loving_ that it almost makes Ryan want to cry.

Part of his brain, the more creative, strange, poetic side that normally only gets set free for videos, thinks it can taste Shane’s wonder in his kisses. Thinks it can taste his shock, even now, that Ryan said  _yes_  the first time Shane had asked him out on date, that Ryan wanted to continue dating him, that Ryan is his  _boyfriend_ , that Ryan doesn’t care that he’s asexual and is more than happy to just keep on kissing Shane forever if that’s as much as Shane wants to do.

The tension melts out of Shane by millimetres, and eventually they get back to where they were before. It’s not exactly the same, of course – and how could it be, after everything that just transpired? – but it’s  _close_ , and it’s soft and gentle and loving and it feels good and  _right_ again. Shane’s completely relaxed underneath Ryan, and over the last few minutes he’s been gradually pulling him in closer, until they’re chest to chest once more. Ryan likes to imagine that he can feel Shane’s heart beating in time with his own against his chest, but it’s a thought he only holds onto for a few seconds because he has a soft and loving Shane beneath him, and he has more important things to think about.

Like kissing Shane absolutely senseless, because even if Ryan doesn’t know yet what Shane is and is not okay with, it was made clear from the start that kissing is something that Shane enjoys very,  _very_ much.

It is also, as Ryan had been quick to discover, something that Shane is  _extremely_ talented at.

It’s good.

It’s  _so_ good.

Ryan smooths his hands across Shane’s chest, and shifts himself in closer. He’s feeling warm again, flushed like there’s embers lying just under his skin, and Shane is so  _warm_ and soft and he’s still kissing Ryan like he never wants to do anything else, like Ryan is the only sustenance he’ll ever need, and it’s- it’s fucking  _perfect_.

Ryan groans softly into Shane’s mouth, and thinks he hears Shane murmur something against his lips. He can’t quite make out the words, but Shane makes no move to repeat them or move Ryan away, so Ryan quickly decides he can safely forget them and return to his number one priority. He tilts his head slightly, lifts one hand to Shane’s chin to angle him  _just_ so, and Shane goes so willingly and so easily that Ryan feels his heart fucking  _burst_ , and he deepens the kiss and  _yes, Shane, just like that_.

_God_. The things this man does to him are ridiculous. Shane is ridiculous. Ryan’s love for him is ridiculous and he  _doesn’t fucking care_ , because when he pulls away to take a breath and looks down at Shane and sees his fucked-up hair and his kiss-swollen lips and his half-hooded eyes and the way he grins, lax and lazy like he has all the time in the world to spend kissing Ryan, Ryan feels it may be ok to be completely head-over-heels for someone.

And when he starts feeling worried that his heart might physically explode from his chest if he keeps looking at Shane any longer, he dives back in to kiss him senseless all over again.

Time doesn’t really matter anymore.

It hadn’t mattered before, the first time they did this, and it matters even less now. Ryan’s not even sure how much time passes like this, with his lips on Shane’s and his hands against Shane’s side and curling through his hair and Shane’s hands solid and perfect on his waist, but it doesn’t matter. It  _really_ doesn’t matter. Shane is humming against his mouth and giving soft gasps that mirror Ryan’s own quiet groans, and Ryan is warm all over and so damn  _content_ because they had a proper, real,  _serious_ relationship talk and it went  _well_ and everything is still okay and Shane is happy and kissing him like it’s going out of fashion, and Ryan doesn’t want to anything else but lie on Shane and kiss him back, and so he does.

Until his body does what it clearly likes to do best, and betrays him by gently rolling his hips against Shane’s.

…Whoops.

There’s a single second of frozen silence in which Ryan and Shane both break from the kiss, realising on some level what just happened, and look at each other.

“Ryan?” Shane murmurs, soft and confused, “Was that- are you-?”

God fucking damn it, it had all been going  _so well_.

“Sorry,” Ryan blurts out, and starts desperately shifting backwards in an attempt to make things less awkward because  _fuck_ , but  _really?_ They had literally  _just talked about this_ , they literally just went through this exact fucking scenario, Shane just told him that he’s asexual and that he wasn’t going to mind if Ryan decided he wanted to break up with him because sex was too important, and now Ryan’s kneeling between Shane’s legs with  _another_  fucking bonerlike he’s a horny teenager all over again, and he can’t imagine that he’s giving the impression that he doesn’t mind if he never has sex with Shane too well.

He desperately tries to think of something unsexy.  _Grandpa in a swimsuit. The Sallie house. Keith eating fried chicken with great and vocal enjoyment_.

It works a little bit, but Ryan feels it’s too late. The damage is surely already done.

But thankfully, because apparently Ryan’s boyfriend is  _actually magical_ and can just  _sense_ when Ryan’s mind is getting away from him, Shane speaks up before Ryan’s rambling brain can get too much further into its own self-created sinkhole of worry.

“Hey,” Shane says, but he doesn’t even manage to get another word in before Ryan’s apologising  _again_ , because apparently he just  _doesn’t know when to shut up_.

“I’m  _so sorry_ ,” he interrupts, lifting a hand and running it through his hair as he glances around, looking anywhere but  _at_ Shane, “I’m- I promise that I really don’t care about sex, okay? Like, really. Well, I mean, I do, clearly I do, my fucking dick’s giving that away even if I’m not, but- you know, I’m totally cool with it if we never have sex, that’s fine, it’s- it’s no biggie.”

“Ryan.”

“I mean, really, I can- I could take of this on my own, or just- it’ll go away eventually, or-“

“ _Dude_.”

Ryan realises that Shane is trying to get his attention  _again_. Ryan realises that Shane has been doing that  _a lot_ today, and that he should probably try to be better at not talking.

Ryan shuts up.

Shane smiles slightly, and leans in to press a quick kiss to Ryan’s lips.

And it’s probably a good thing that he does, because it’s enough to keep Ryan quiet for a few moments longer when Shane says something that just about turns his brain inside out.

“I’m alright with some sex,” Shane says.

Wait,  _what_?

“…What?”

“Just so long as it doesn’t involve me.”

Ryan has- he- he has  _absolutely no idea_ what on God’s sweet Earth that is meant to mean. Because- he’s pretty sure that’s he monogamous, and he’s pretty sure that Shane is too, and if that’s the case then  _how the fuck_ are they meant to have sex without Shane actually, y’know,  _participating_? Is Shane just going to watch him jerk off? Because that is- call him shy, but to Ryan that just sounds  _weird_.

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get it  _at all_ , and he says as much.

Shane sighs, very quietly, and flops his head back again.

He’s been doing that a lot today, Ryan notices absently. He hopes the couch armrests and sufficiently cushioned, and that Shane’s being sufficiently careful. The last thing he wants is for his boyfriend to give himself a concussion while trying to be comfortable. “Right,” Shane says, “It’s like- it’s like this, okay? I  _don’t_ care about sex  _for myself_ , right-“

“Right,” Ryan says, feeling like he’s not really following at all so far. Shane quickly shushes him and continues.

“Dude, I’m not done.”

“Sorry.”

“’S alright. So, I don’t care about sex when it’s about me,  _but_  I’m actually sort of okay with sex when it’s about my partner.” He lifts his head back up and props himself up on his elbows, looking down at Ryan, who’s been frowning in confusion about since he apologised. “You get it?”

Ryan definitely doesn’t. “No.”

Shane sighs again, but this time he just glances up at the ceiling for a bit, and doesn’t lean his head back to rest it against the armrest again.

“ _What I’m saying is_ , I don’t like people touching my junk, or my junk being involved in any way, but I  _am_ happy to touch my partners junk or blow them or eat them out or whatever, so long as they don’t try to do anything to me. I just- I really  _do not care_ about the bit of sex where the goal is to get  _me_ off as well. It’s just boring. When I have sex I just want to care about my partner, and that’s it. Nothing for me. No thank you. Not here to orgasm.”

Ryan gets the feeling he’s beginning to look somewhat like a fish, just sitting and staring slack-jawed at Shane, but he doesn’t- he’s honestly not sure what he’s even  _thinking_. Which is ridiculous, of course – it’s  _his_ brain, so he really should know what’s going on in it – but he’s still trying to understand Shane’s whole ‘no sex for me but yes sex for my partner’ mindset and it  _baffles_ him somewhat, because surely the whole  _point_  of sex is to get off together.

And it’s like Shane can see the thoughts ticking over in his head, because he laughs quietly, and gently takes Ryan’s head in his hands. “Ryan,” he says softly, “ _Stop overthinking this_. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.”

“But-“

“But what?” Shane doesn’t sound defensive. He just sounds curious, and almost  _amused_ , as if Ryan’s lack of understanding is actually a source of humour for him, and Ryan supposes he can understand that. After all, it  _is_ all relatively simple and straightforward and  _logical_ , and Ryan feels like he should be able to understand and accept it all with no issue. And yet-

_And yet_.

“… you don’t like orgasming?”

… Why the fuck did he just say that? Why the absolute  _fuck_  did he just think to say that? He could have said literally anything, could have focused on any of the infinitely more important points that Shane’s been making for the last few minutes, but somehow the instruction ‘say something relevant’ had gotten jumbled somewhere between his brain and his mouth and he’d said that absolute  _nonsense_ instead.

Ryan rather feels he should just stop talking completely at this point, but that would rather defeat the point of a ‘conversation’.

Shane, thankfully, just seems to find it hilarious. He snickers under his breath, quietly, and then there’s a single beat of silence before he bursts into full-on, body-shaking laughter, leaning forwards to press his forehead to the crook of Ryan’s neck and shoulder as his hands drop to Ryan’s waist once again. Ryan, still somewhat confused, wraps his arms around Shane’s back mostly on instinct, and feels his boyfriend start muffling his laughter against Ryan’s shirt.

A few moments pass, until Shane manages to get himself more or less under control.

“ _Ryan_ ,” he says, still wheezing as he lifts his head, “I- first of all, I really want to look inside your brain to see how you connect the dots sometimes, because  _good God,_ and secondly,  _obviously not_. I mean sure, it feels  _nice_ , but so does eating popcorn or marathoning Netflix or cuddling you or watching you get spooked by the wind. And most of those take  _way_ less time than fucking around in the bedroom.”

There’s a second of silence, and then Ryan gets it, and he groans.

“Shane-“

“What?”

“Shane, that was  _awful_.”

Shane grins. “Yeah, I know. But you loved it anyway.”

He did. “I did not.”

“Mm, sure, whatever you say, Ry.”

Ryan groans again, and leans forward to press his forehead to the curve of Shane’s neck. He feels Shane chuckle against him, and a moment later there’s a gentle pressure against his scalp as Shane starts to run his fingers through his hair. “You’re an ass,” he mumbles.

“That’s a compliment. I have a  _great_ ass.”

Ryan really can’t argue with that. “You do,” he mumbles under his breath, and his hope that Shane didn’t hear him say it is instantly dashed when he feels Shane start to chuckle beneath him. “That doesn’t stop the joke from being awful!” he adds quickly, and leans back to glare at Shane again. Shane’s hands slip from his hair, taking up their position on Ryan’s waist as if they never left. “Because it was awful. It was  _atrocious_.”

Shane shrugs, completely unapologetic, and gives Ryan his best shit-eating grin. “It was  _relevant_.”

“It was- it-“ Ryan splutters hopelessly for a few moments before accepting defeat because  _fuck it_ , he has literally  _nothing_ to argue on right now other than the fact that it was simultaneous the best and worst thing he’d ever heard.

The worst, because obviously it was  _awful_ , but Ryan’s beginning to feel like he shouldn’t expect any less from Shane,  _especially_ now that he’s dating him.

And the best, because that one shitty joke had somehow diffused the atmosphere more than anything else had, and so Ryan feels next to no qualms about shaking his head a few times in defeat, flexing his fingers against Shane’s shirt, and looking back up at him when he speaks again, a faint grin on his own face now as well.

“So,” he says, “ _About_ the sex thing…”

“Oh!” Shane says, and his mock-surprise is so immediate and so fucking  _ridiculous_  that Ryan can’t even find it in himself to be mad – he just grins wider, and shakes his head again, and thinks  _You’re a piece of shit, Shane, but I love you anyway_. “Yes! That! My word, you know I almost forgot.”

“You’re a piece of shit, Shane.”

“Goodness me, Ryan, I can’t believe I forgot you and your poor neglected dick. Good heavens. What a monster I am.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Ryan says, but he can’t surpress his laughter around the word, and it comes out more like a wheeze, “ _Come on_. You can’t just- you can’t just say that you’ve actually been chill with some sex all along and then not  _elaborate_. I’m getting impatient here.”

Shane lifts an eyebrow, and gives a very pointed look to Ryan’s crotch.

Ryan feels himself flush instantly, but he doesn’t budge from his point. “We’re  _both_ getting impatient,” he says, because  _fuck it_ , if Shane’s going to turn this into a joke then he is too.

“The little guy’s little guy,” Shane muses quietly, and Ryan whacks him in the shoulder for it.

“ _Hey_. Respect the little guy.”

“Oh, I’m respecting the little guy alright,” Shane replies, with a waggle of his eyebrows that’s so ridiculous that Ryan just wheezes again. “Could respect him in lots of ways. So long as you don’t respect  _my_ little guy. My little guy’s a right a-hole. Doesn’t deserve any respect. But  _your_ little guy is a different story.” There’s a pause, and Shane glances down again, but it’s a more thoughtful look this time. Like he’s actually  _contemplating_ something.

Ryan, after a second or two, starts to feel a little bit nervous.

“I could use my hand,” Shane says, and Ryan feels his fading blush return in full force.

“…What?”

“If you wanted me to, I’d jerk you off,” Shane says simply, and grins wider as he watches Ryan’s cheeks somehow turn even redder. It’s stupid. Ryan doesn’t think a body should be putting that much blood in the face and the dick simultaneously. It feels like it should be medically unhealthy. “But you don’t jerk me off in return,” Shane continues. “This is a one-way thing, baby, remember that.”

Ryan swallows. His hands are twitching against Shane’s sides, and he can  _feel_ his blood rushing back down to his dick again. Just the  _thought-_  he’s not going to lie and say that he’s never fantasised about Shane’s hands before - because,  _seriously_ , just  _look_ at them, they’re fucking  _gorgeous_ , just watching Shane twirl a pen can be enough to  _do things_ to him - but imagining Shane jerking him off in the privacy of his own bedroom and actually  _hearing_ Shane say it in that beautiful fucking voice of his are two very,  _very_ different things.

And  _fuck_ , but Ryan really desperately wants to see how the real thing matches up to his imagination. Screw joking around – Ryan knows Shane’s joking voice, and that was  _not_ his joking voice. That was his ‘I’m being completely serious but I also find this situation kind of amusing, typically at Ryan’s expense’ voice, which means that even if he’s grinning like some sort of atrocious Bigfoot dentistry exhibit Ryan knows that he was still being completely serious about the offer.

So Ryan reminds himself to breathe, and takes a moment to clear his throat a little before speaking. “And you- you’d be alright with that?”

“Why do you think I’m offering?”

“I-…” Ryan trails off and shrugs. Shane has a very good point. He  _is_ offering, and he did just spend several long, painful minutes explaining what he’s alright with to Ryan. “Yeah, alright, good point, well made.”

Shane’s hands start shifting against Ryan’s sides again, running up and down in slow, soothing strokes, and Ryan has to force himself not to squirm into Shane’s lap like his dick is begging him to. He’s pretty certain that could be considered rude, and he’s still worried about crossing any of Shane’s boundaries. “So,” Shane says, “What do you say? Want me to give you a handjob? Just nod if you do.”

Ryan nods.

Shane’s hands come to a rest on Ryan’s waist, and his grin turns downright  _predatory_. “Ryan Bergara,” he says, and Ryan finds himself suddenly dry-mouthed as one of Shane’s hands slips further down his side, until his fingers are resting just underneath his jeans above the curve of his ass, “Would you do me the great honor of letting me jerk you off?”

Ryan swallows. “Shane,” he says, somewhat hoarsely, “I would be delighted to accept.”

_-_

Afterwards, they watch the movie all the way through.


End file.
